Corpses Can't Talk Back
by Sullen Kitty
Summary: Oneshot. Ducky talks to Jenny’s body during her autopsy. During Judgment Day II.


**Title:** Corpses Can't Talk Back

**Summary:** Oneshot. Ducky talks to Jenny's body during her autopsy. During Judgment Day II.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own NCIS or "Now" by The Pat McGee Band.

**A/N:** I've been trying to find a new spin on Jenny's death for forever, and I was watching Judgment Day on the USA reruns yesterday when this came to me. Thank god for Ducky.

The song at the bottom didn't inspire this fic, but it fit, and I like having relatable lyrics at the bottom of my fanfictions. It's from "Now" by The Pat McGee Band, and it's a really, really good song.  
And yes, for all you purists out there, I am aware that Ducky did not actually send Jimmy out of the room when he did the autopsy, and I am aware that I am leaving out the chart mix-up. But that's the beauty of fanfiction – I can rewrite history.

WHICH INCLUDES THE WHOLE JENNY LEAVING JETHRO SITUATION. Excuse my rant here for a moment, but really, if I write Jibbs, do you think I don't realize that it was Jen who left Jethro in Paris, not the other way around? I am aware of that fact, I just tend to ignore it for whatever my purpose is at the time. So please, stop correcting me via review. Thank you.

Now onto the story.

---

He'd sent Palmer out of the room. The young man was more than a little shaken by the recent turn of events, and in all honestly, so was Ducky. He didn't want Palmer to get used to the idea of butchering his colleagues' remains, so he'd sent him to Abby's lab to see what help he could offer.

As he turned to the tarp-covered figure that had been unceremoniously placed on the cold autopsy table, he couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of sadness.

Jenny Shepard – beautiful, young, director of a federal agency, loved for a long time by his best friend – gone, quicker than either of them had expected.

Or perhaps it was just he that hadn't known how quickly…

He tilted his head and walked towards her body.

"Did you plan this, Jennifer?"

He unzipped the tarp, exposing her stiff, pallid body to the clinical air. Without thinking, he brushed a piece of gravel from her cheek. Then he realized, too late, that what he'd just flicked away was probably evidence.

"I'm sorry if I'm doing a miserable job of this, Jennifer," he said as he stooped to pick up the tiny speck. "I know what has to be done. I know that you probably don't care anymore. But I think you knew more than you told me."

He placed the gravel in a specimen jar and turned back to her body. "I feel as though I'm violating some sort of code," he confessed, chuckling. "If this had happened in real life…" Pause. "But you're not alive."

He absently fixed her bangs before looking at her chart.

"I know you were sick – I was the one who diagnosed you, after all. But really, Jennifer, did you mean to hurt Jethro in such a way? I understand why you didn't tell him about your illness, but it wasn't necessary to commit suicide by Russian terrorist. But you were protecting Jethro, so I can respect your decision. And I suppose it was infinitely preferable to you than spending months lying uselessly in bed."

He glanced at her sharply, realizing something. "And now Jethro doesn't have to make the choice whether to take you off life support or not." His features softened as he smiled sadly. "You did die on your own terms, my dear."

Something on her right hand caught his eye. He lifted it slowly, admiring her long fingers and delicate bone structure as he scanned the area between her thumb and first finger. A beauty mark?

"Why, it's a small heart," he said, surprised. "I didn't know you had a tattoo, Jennifer."

A memory. When the three of them were in Europe… Jethro always held her hand, his thumb brushing up against that exact spot.

"Jethro knew about this, didn't he?" He shook his head, amused. "The two of you always confounded me, you know. I never understood how he could have let you go, and when you came back, how the two of you didn't officially reunite. I suppose you wounded Jethro's pride," he considered out loud, "but I'm almost positive he would have gotten over that if you'd asked him back." He gazed at her critically. "Or wouldn't your pride have allowed that? You were a proud woman, there's no doubt about that. Your stubbornness rivaled Jethro's… perhaps that's why the two of you got along so well." He laughed. "He thought the world of you, you know. I don't think he ever really got over you at all. It killed him whenever you went out on a date – he'd come down here and sulk. He never told me what was going on, but I knew.

"You two were quite a pair, weren't you?"

He sobered as he looked into her cold face. Something had just occurred to him that he'd never thought of during any other autopsy.

Corpses can't talk back.

Wiping his eyes with the heel of his hand, he went to get a scalpel.

_After the stars fall down_

_And there's nothing for wishing on_

_After the goodbye sound_

_And love leaves her alone_

_She picks herself up off the ground_

_She won't bow down_

_She's come too far to give up now…_

**-Fin-**

**A/N: **Ducky copes in his own way. It ended a little suddenly, but I think Ducky needed this.


End file.
